Discrepancies: When Things Don't Add Up
by A Nest of Nargles
Summary: There was a reason Petunia hated/feared magic a reason she thought all magic folk freaks. A reason Lilly's parents had been so happy to know she was a witch. It was a reason, an excuse for her unnaturalness. Harry's unnaturalness. Creature!Harry SG-HP
1. Prelude

Discrepancies: When Things Don't Add Up.

Summary: There was a reason Petunia hated/feared magic a reason she thought all magic folk freaks. A reason Lilly's parents had been so happy to know she was a witch. It was a reason, an excuse for her unnaturalness. Harry's unnaturalness. Dementor&Wraith!Harry SG-HP

Disclaimer: okay _**I don't own jack shit**_ except the combination of ideas(the plot) everything else belongs to somebody else. After all, I didn't create HP or SG, nor was I the original creators of dark!harry and Dumbledore bashing and so on so forth. However, I did make this story, so back off it's mine, and don't bug me because I'm not claiming to be the mastermind behind everything, just the one who put it together in this particular formation. So there.

Oh yeah, for those of you looking for SG characters, if they show up it'll be much later, this story is predominantly HP. Also this story is in tangent with the books, not the movies.

**Warning!:_ eventually_ independent Potter Harry, creature Harry, Dumbledore Albus bashing, adopted Evans Lilly, semi smart Harry. Weasley bashing(minus the twins, Weasley Bill and Weasley Charlie), Granger Hermione Bashing, mildly dark Harry/grey Harry, not as evil as he seems Riddle Voldemort/reasonable Voldemort. Possible (much later if it happens) Azkaban Harry, possible slash.**_** NO Super!Harry(I hope)**_

If you **don't like it**, then A) too fucking bad, or B) **don't read it.**

Also this story does not have a beta, hell I don't have a beta at all(really obvious as this my first story) so any volunteer beta's will not only be welcomed with open arms but also much loved and appreciated

and sorry if I came off as bitchy, but I know how you readers can be, I'm one of you after all ; )

* * *

**Prelude**

Petunia Dursley never concerned herself too much about feeding her nephew. She knew he wouldn't die. He didn't eat her kind of food, not really. It was because he was a little freak, just like his mother had been, just like all those stick waving lunatics were. What Petunia didn't know about his freakishness however, was that he would be considered freakish even amongst the other so called freaks. Petunia's freak of a nephew, did something to them, every now and then, catching them unawares, and afterwards, he'd stop looking sick, and they would. Petunia had to constantly die her hair, to hide the grey and white strands, the little freak did something that made them get a little older as time went on. He did something that let them irritable, irrational, and it only got worse with time. It was like he sucked out their souls a little bit at a time.

Petunia shivered, pushing that thought away to the back of her mind. It didn't matter, they punished the freak accordingly and he usually got his 'soul food' somewhere else anyway, probably at school. She felt guilty for endangering the children, but better them than her family. She'd seen her sister kill someone once, by eating all of their soul at once. It was the same day she learned to hide her freakish appearance, those mouth like holes on her hands, and the deep slit like pits on her cheeks.

Petunia's nephew had learned to hide his freakishness too, just a few days after he started school, the same day that little Amelia Bernelle disappeared. They still haven't found her body. Sometimes Petunia wondered if he actually ate the whole girl instead of just her soul, then she reminded herself that it didn't matter s long as he left them alone and hide his freakishness and left when he was of age. She couldn't get rid of him because of the other freaks, but when he was an adult she wouldn't have to put up with his abnormalities any longer. She and her husband, and her sweet little boy would finally have a nice normal life.

Petunia grimaced as she stopped by the cupboard under the stairs, unlocked it and banged on the door,

"Up! Get up! Now!" Petunia screeched and banged on the door once more before striding purposefully into the kitchen to start breakfast. Today was her son's birthday, she hoped the freak wouldn't do anything today, he hadn't in a while, and she knew he was due soon. Maybe if they took him to the zoo he could eat someone else? No, no of course she wouldn't do that, how could she think of it? Dudley would be devastated at sharing his special day. Besides, her nephew was a freak, he didn't deserve to go to the zoo, he would stay with the neighbor Miss Fig next door.

Upon finishing the pancakes Petunia looked over her shoulder to see that her freak nephew wasn't out of the cupboard yet. Ungrateful brat, if he wants anything for breakfast he'd better get up! Not that he needed their kind of food anyway, if he causes trouble she'll just lock him back inside, where he can't touch anyone, where he'll starve. Petunia decided before walking over to the cupboard under the stairs, still, maybe she could give him a chance? After all it's not like Lilly _wanted_ to be evil right? She'd been fighting on the good side of the war before getting blown up. No, she was still a soul sucking freak and so was her nephew. But he needed to get up so she could fetch her son.

"Are you up yet?" Petunia demanded irritatedly stopping at the cupboard door.

"Nearly." came her nephews voice. She sneered,

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Diddum's birthday." Petunia snapped. A groan of irritation came from the cupboard and her eyes narrowed,

"What did you say?" she demanded dangerously, did he have a problem with her boy's special day?

"Nothing, nothing..." came the response. Petunia humphed before bustling on to go up the stairs and wake up her sweet whittle boy.

* * *

**This was just to get things started, as the title suggests it's just a prelude. Also this might end up being the only time the story isn't in Harry's Pov(but I don't write in first person). I only wrote it like so because I thought it'd be a good way to introduce the fact that Harry really isn't normal, even by wizarding standards. The chapters will also be much longer than this, and actual Ch1 will be coming out in a minute, once I'm finished editing.**


	2. Chapter 1

Discrepancies: When Things Don't Add Up.

There was a reason Petunia hated/feared magic a reason she thought all magic folk freaks. A reason Lilly's parents had been so happy to know she was a witch. It was a reason, an excuse for her unnaturalness. Harry's unnaturalness. Dementor&Wraith!Harry SG-HP

Disclaimer: okay _**I don't own jack shit**_ except the combination of ideas(the plot) everything else belongs to somebody else. After all, I didn't create HP or SG, nor was I the original creators of dark!harry and Dumbledore bashing and so on so forth. However, I did make this story, so back off it's mine, and don't bug me because I'm not claiming to be the mastermind behind everything, just the one who put it together in this particular formation. So there.

Oh yeah, for those of you looking for SG characters, if they show up it'll be much later, this story is predominantly HP. Also this story is in tangent with the books, not the movies.

**Warning!:_ eventually_ independent Potter Harry, creature Harry, Dumbledore Albus bashing, adopted Evans Lilly, semi smart Harry. Weasley bashing(minus the twins, Weasley Bill and Weasley Charlie), Granger Hermione Bashing, mildly dark Harry/grey Harry, not as evil as he seems Riddle Voldemort/reasonable Voldemort. Possible (much later if it happens) Azkaban Harry, possible slash.**

_**NO Super!Harry(I hope)**_

If you **don't like it**, then A) too fucking bad, or B) **don't read it.**

Also this story does not have a beta, hell I don't have a beta at all(really obvious as this my first story) so any volunteer beta's will not only be welcomed with open arms but also much loved and appreciated

and sorry if I came off as bitchy, but I know how you readers can be, I'm one of you after all ; )

I know, all this was in the Prelude, but I figured I'd add it to the first chap too, just incase. Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if you guys just skipped that chap anyway.

* * *

**CH. 1**

Harry sighed as he stumbled out of his cupboard, he was feeling exhausted again, that tired ache in his very bones. He'd have to do it again, that thing with the pit in his hands. He looked down at his smooth palms before hastily wiping them on his jeans. He didn't really like it, it was proof of his freakishness, and really he would have much more preferred to be normal, but he couldn't exactly help it. Normal food tasted good, but it didn't do anything else for him. Besides it felt good when he did that, fed on their energy, emotions or soul or whatever it was he did. Really really really good. And some other good things had come of it too.

He was more or less immune to the cold. He had stood out in the snow barefoot and without a jacket for a good few hours once, and he didn't even get frostbite. It had felt a little chilly sure, but not freezing as it should have.

Plus, he had stopped the Harry Hunting games his cousin Dudley had invented, where the neighborhood boys chase him around then beat him up. He'd discovered that he could make it grow cold, and make people sad or really scared. It was weird to describe but he more or less likened it to flaring his aura, a kind of intimidation technique he'd seen in cartoons.

Flaring his aura was an invigorating feeling, but not the same as when he absorbed their energy. When he did that though it was best if a person was full, and happy feeling, and young, and healthy. Mostly he stole energy from the kids at school, randomly. A lot of them were scared of him now, but no one was brave enough to tell on him. The last and only one who had tried, Amelia, had wound up dead.

He hadn't meant to do it, not really. He just wanted to scare her out of telling the grown ups. His aunt and uncle really didn't like him, they tended to beat him if he did anything wrong, or even certain things right like getting good grades. He didn't want to get hurt, they left him alone most of the time, if he stayed out of their way and didn't call any attention to himself.

Amelia had seen him taking energy from one of the students and called him a monster, when she found out that he'd made the kid feel sickly, she threatened to tell on him, he'd wanted to stop her, that day in the alley, and had grabbed her arm so she couldn't run. He just wanted to explain, to tell her, show her that he had to do it, he had to or he would get really sick, maybe even die. But she hadn't listened, and her anger had been intoxicating. Without meaning to, he started to eat her energy, except unlike other times he didn't stop, he didn't stop until there was no more.

When he'd pulled away, Amelia was a small dried husk, looking kind of like a mummy with dried out skin pulled taut over her bones. And he'd felt really really good. He hadn't needed to do that feeding thing again for weeks, and even been stronger for a while. But it had scared him at first, feeling good or not, he had killed somebody, he didn't want to be taken away and locked up with people who were even maybe worse than the Dursleys. He tried to give her energy back like he sometimes did with the few kids who didn't fight him as much, but it didn't work, she was already dead.

He'd wound up stealing a trash bag out of the giant dumpster, and dumping half of the trash before squishing Amelia inside. He'd broken parts of her by being too rough, but there was no blood, and no smell so he wasn't too worried. And she couldn't feel it anyway. He put some of the trash back, then scattered the rest, people littered a lot anyway, and put the bag in the big dumpster. Nobody every found out. Harry liked to imagine her little body had become dust before any one could look inside. He also liked to imagine that he hadn't really hurt her when he killed her, that she hadn't started feeling sick and gasping, he pretended that she just sort of went to sleep and didn't feel anything when he ate her. He pretended her parents weren't sad and missed her. Other wise, if he didn't pretend he'd drown in guilt.

Harry flipped the bacon over wincing as some of the grease jumped out and stung his skin, thinking about how it was Dudley's birthday, and if he had gotten newer versions of some of his stuff, Harry might be able to sneak some things to keep as his own, if he didn't get caught at least.

"Comb your hair!" Vernon barked as he waddled into the kitchen newspaper in hand, following his son and wife. Harry didn't say anything, only grimacing slightly.

Harry's hair was hopeless, it grew in every which way and any direction. He must have had a dozen haircuts a year, but it never made a difference, his hair never tamed, and it always grew back. Harry didn't bother telling his uncle this though, firstly because he already knew it, and secondly because it would only get him in trouble for cheek.

Harry frowned slightly as he took the bacon off the stove, wondering just were on earth it was going to fit on the table.

The table was covered in presents for Dudley, there must have been at least thirty, maybe even somewhere around fifty, not to mention the racing bike over by the side wall. Though some of the bigger presents were also on the floor. With a sigh, Harry decided to just move a few and put down the food, stacking a few of the presents before setting down the bacon. Meanwhile Dudley had started counting presents; his face fell,

"Thirty-six," He said looking up at his parents, "that's two less than last year."

"Darling you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from mummy and daddy." Petunia tried to placate her son.

"Alright, thirty-seven then." Dudley said going red in the face. Harry could practically taste his anger building, due to his freakishness he could sense other people's presence and emotions, it helped him to decide who to feed from, as depending on their state of being they would taste better or worse. Extreme emotions always tasted good if they ran high enough, for instance a person who was shaking with fear had this tangy taste that rather vaguely reminded Harry of oranges.

Harry had yet to taste rage, though he imagined it would be rather pleasant in high volume as he had enjoyed anger the one time he had tried it(Amelia). For a moment he entertained the idea of feeding off of Dudley as he began working up a tantrum, but he knew that he'd get the beating of his life from his uncle if he even let on that he was so much as thinking of it as he was doing now.

He'd fed from Vernon and Petunia a few times though, but only in a desperate situation after having put off feeding for too long. It was extremely rare that Harry did this as the consequences far outweighed any benefits. He usually wound up getting belted hard enough to rip up his back the next day when Vernon was recovered. Not to mention a broken bone somewhere along the way and more than enough bruises.

And after his 'punishments' for feeding on them he was always locked in the cupboard for weeks on end, usually a month, not allowed out for any reason, not to bathe, eat, or even use the bathroom. Not that he had to very often as he rarely indulged himself with human food. It didn't help either that his aunt almost never fed him. Whether it was because she knew he didn't need human food or if it was because she was hoping he might die of starvation however, he had no clue.

Petunia seemed to sense the danger of her son's temperament as quickly as Harry had, though the red face was certainly a big hint. Harry hoped she'd calm him down quick, Dudley had flipped the table a few times beore and almost always managed to deal Harry a good few blows during his tantrums. Harry was not relishing the thought of getting caught under a falling table with pounds of presents, or getting 'accidentally' knocked around enough to cause a concussion.

"And we'll buy you another _two_ presents wile we're out today." Petunia quickly said to her son. "How's that popkin? _Two_ more presents. Is that alright?"

Dudley frowned, thinking a moment, Harry was amused at the almost pained look on his cousin's face. Thinking must really be a strain. "So I'll have thirty... thirty..."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums." Petunia aided her son.

"Oh," Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest present, "alright then." he said satiated for the time being.

Vernon chuckled, "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy Dudley!" he said ruffling his son's hair.

_Little? How is he little? _Harry wondered to himself incredulously, the boy(baby whale would be more apt really) was anything but. Just then the telephone rang and Petunia left the kitchen to go answer. Harry watched idly as Dudley unwrapped his racing bike(though why he wanted it when he hated anything to do with exercise was beyond Harry), a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. Dudley was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt petunia came in. Harry smiled at the watch, it meant he'd be able to get away with stealing one of the few undamaged items belonging to Dudley.

The particular item in question happened to be an antique silver pocket watch with a silver chain to hook to a belt loop and so forth. Dudley had loved it for all of a week, where he showed it off ever single day. Harry had loved it too, but hadn't dared go anywhere near it until Dudley had some sort of replacement watch that would leave that one far from his mind. It was a little scratched up now with a few minor scuff marks on the silver but to Harry that gave it character. Dudley didn't care much for it, especially since it was no longer perfect, and soon, it would be Harry's. He'd just have to work out a time where he'd be free to snatch it without getting caught.

"Bad news, Vernon." Petunia said, "Mrs. Fig's broken her leg, she can't take him." she jerked her head in Harry's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror even as Harry perked up. Bad news for them generally either meant good for him, or worse for him, in this case he could only assume it to be good. He'd either be left at home, or taken with everyone to the zoo.

Staying here meant he'd be able to nick the silver pocket watch sooner than expected and even watch the tele, leaving meant he'd be able to not only visit a zoo but feed as he was want to do soon within the next few days as he needed to eat. It was always harder to feed during the summer, with no school to provide ready meals.

Either way, he'd be able to avoid a batty Mrs. Fig who had way too many cats and whose home smelled rather unpleasant as direct result of keeping so many felines.

"Now what?" said Petunia who was glaring furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. Really there was no way he could have, not that he would mind terribly the results of such circumstances.

"We could phone Marge?" Vernon suggested his sister.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy." and it's a completely mutual feeling Harry thought with distaste.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend – Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca." snapped Petunia in annoyance, she'd told her husband that this very morning...

"You could just leave me here." Harry decided to throw his two cents in for the hell of it. Besides it irritated him terribly when people spoke about him in front of him as if he wasn't there. Unfortunately this happened quite often with the Dursleys.

"And come back to find the house in ruins?" Petunia snarled at the boy.

"I won't blow up the house." Harry rolled his eyes, but they weren't listening, they never did really.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt petunia slowly, ". . . . and leave him in the car . . ."

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone . . ." Vernon protested over his vehicle.

It was then his son decided to add his two cents as well; Dudley began to cry loudly. Well in all actuality he wasn't really crying – it had been years since he really cried – but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around the wailing Dudley.

"I . . . don't . . . want . . . him . . . t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arm.

_Oh yes,_ Harry thought sarcastically, raising a brow at his cousin, I_'m just evil incarnate aren't I? Maybe you should look in a mirror sometime Dudley before you start throwing out accusations. And while I'd love to say you're not fooling anybody with that shoddy act of yours, lets face it your parents are gullible idiots. _

Just then the doorbell ran – "Oh good lord, they're here!" Petunia cried out frantically – and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arm behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped crying at once, no sense in looking weak in front of a kid like Piers.

The only good thing Harry to say for the boy was that he was ridiculously smart and it was because of him that he'd learned how to make people afraid with his aura. It had been an act of desperation at first, but now... well now he controlled it pretty well, he could call upon it at will, the air would get chilly, sometimes a bit of frost will build up if he left it long enough at full force, and people would get scared or sad. It was as if he stole away their happy memories.

Dudley had been freaked out when Harry had first done it, he'd told the nurse it felt as if he would never be happy again. If it hadn't been for Piers, Harry probably never would have found himself in a situation desperate enough to call on that power. He'd been about to feed, and was extremely weak instead of his usual extraordinary strength. He hadn't fed in a while, so it'd been easy for Piers to grab and hold him still for Dudley to start beating him.

Harry absolutely hated being weak, bad things always happened when he couldn't defend himself. He hated being weak as much as he hated the Dursleys who instilled that fear in the first place. He couldn't fight back, and they took pleasure in his suffering. _Normal_ family his ass. Harry thought dourly, the Dursleys were obsessed with normalcy but in Harry's mind were anything but. They may not be freaks like him, but they were hardly normal.

Half an hour later, Harry was changed into the only clothes he had that properly fit him, and sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo. Lucky for Harry, Dudley and Piers were more interested in talking sports and about video games than tormenting him. Harry relaxed in his seat, staring out the window as his uncle went on a rant about Motorcycles.

" . . . roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums." Vernon groused as a motorbike over took him. Harry smiled slightly, he'd had a dream about a motorbike once, it'd been flying. Not that he'd tell them that of course, Vernon would have fit. He hated anything that wasn't everyday normal, and didn't even let Harry watch the tele(that he was aware), he seemed afraid that the green eyed boy might get ideas.

Harry fingered the small silver pocket watch in his pocket. Petunia and Vernon had finally admitted that they would have to take him along. Only problem was, Harry wasn't wearing 'respectable' cloth's... His clothes were four or five sizes to big being Dudley's hand-me-downs, and looked absurd on his thin wiry frame. Not that he looked thin or wiry, in those clothes he seemed far to small, almost starved and tiny. He was bout average height, but somehow people always seemed to think him much much smaller because of the illusion set by his over sized wardrobe.

So Petunia had gone up the stairs, muttering about brats and their strange clothing tendencies. She tells everyone he wears them on purpose as he was a kind of gangster wannabe. The whole neighborhood thought that Harry was a no good delinquent brat who was completely unredeemable with all the lies his family spoke about him. So anyway, she'd gone upstairs to get him his clothes(he wasn't allowed his own nice ones except on special occasions where they were forced to take him places) with Harry on her heals, as Petunia didn't dare reveal that his room was the cupboard under the stairs. It wouldn't matter what lies she told if anyone found that out, they'd immediately realize he was in an abusive and neglectful household. And if that didn't immediately change their attitude towards him they'd at least believe he became so horrible because of the abuse and would be taken away, and the Dursleys would be in six foot deep.

So Harry had followed her up the stairs and was allowed his second hand bought navy slacks, his chucks and some fitting socks as well as a simple green button up shirt(all of which also second hand as the Dursleys wouldn't dream of spending more on him than they absolutely had too). She'd left him to change, of course after threatening him not to touch any of their things. Naturally Harry hadn't listened, realizing his chance and stole the Dudley-neglected silver pocket watch he'd been eying for years on end.

It was ancient and had character. Harry had a thing for old junk, antique was even better. He couldn't stand bright shinny new stuff, though that was probably the Dursleys fault as he'd never been allowed anything new to begin with and when doing chores had to clean so much that things often looked as though they sparkled. Really, did they have to be that clean? They weren't even clean at that point, but polished. It irritated Harry to spend so much time on something that was already done, so really brandnew things bothered him quite a bit, he didn't mind used items in the least(so long as they weren't completely filthy, he didn't lie dirty either, even if he disliked shiny) and had since developed a love of things with a proper history before belonging to Dudley.

Harry really loved the watch, what was even better to him though was that Dudley hadn't managed to break it like he did with most of his other junk, and it was even telling the correct time, he hadn't even had to tune it up after all those years in Dudley's care! Harry thought of it a little as a kind of miracle watch, and his own personal possession.

Harry smiled secretly to himself feeling rather proud, he knew he'd take good care of the watch, and there was no way he'd ever give it back up. Dudley hadn't even liked it, he'd just shown it off because it was expensive and had belonged to some important historical person. Though, really he didn't recognize the initials on the inside at all, HP. Well maybe Henry Purcell(i chose him just for those initials^), but he lived so long ago, were there even pocket watches back then? If not this would hardly be his legacy. Harry frowned thoughtfully, though he had to admit, it would be pretty cool to own something that belonged to Purcell...

Once Vernon had parked and everybody was out of the car, Harry was pulled to the side by his uncle.

"Remember what I said boy, any funny business and you'll be stuck in that cupboard until Christmas, understood?" he growled. Harry had no doubt what so ever that his uncle was serious, once they had locked him in the cupboard for four months, having forgotten about him for a time. The only reason he'd been let out was, for one thing he was half dead, and another was that Petunia wanted him to weed the garden, it'd gotten particularly bad without his constant attentions. All the children at school, except for Dudley had been unusually tired that day as he'd frantically fed from everybody, half starved to death.

"Yes sir." Harry replied curtly before following after everyone to enter the zoo. It was very crowded, full of families everywhere. It made Harry smile, he could take all day to feed and be full for weeks. All he had to do was brush up on a few people here and there, get a few ounces of their energy and he'd be fine, not only that but he wouldn't overly exhaust anyone either, and if he was discrete no body would notice anything except a few moments of lethargy before being consumed by the excitement of a zoo once more.

Harry was having the time of his life, there were so many different interesting animals. Not to mention aside from Petunia's warning not to get lost so they wouldn't have to waste time looking for him, the Dursleys had not to much as looked at him. So long as he kept quiet and out of the way, they hadn't bothered him, and for once Piers and Dudley were too involved with themselves and their environment to even bother sparing Harry so much as a nasty look. And his hand kept in his left pocket insured that he wouldn't lose his watch.

He even got desert after lunch. They had ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Vernon bought him another and Harry was allowed to finish the first. No to mention his 'feeding' was doing well as well. He was nearly full and only half the day had gone by. Sure he could only 'eat' in 'small bites' at a time, but Harry estimated he'd be more than at top charge when the time came to leave. He was already looking healthier, feeling stronger and less lethargic. All in all, the day seemed to be going spectacularly.

Harry should have known it wouldn't last. After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge poisonous cobras and thick man-crushing pythons.

Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place, it could have wrapped it's body twice around Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can – but at the moment it didn't seem in the mood. The snake, in truth, was fast asleep.

Harry quirked a brow, wondering how it could sleep in all this racket from all the visitors, but quickly deducted that the poor thing was simply used to the noise. Dudley had his face pressed up against the glass and Harry imagined to himself it disappearing and him falling in to become the next meal for the Python, but then quickly realized it might have some serious indigestion or food poisoning and stopped imagining the poor things traumatic and inevitable death should it have attempted to swallow Dudley whole.

"Make it move." Dudley whined at his father. Vernon tapped on the glass but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again." Dudley ordered. Vernon rapped smartly on the glass with his knuckles but the snake snoozed on. _Resilient thing isn't it?_ Harry mused staring on at the scene in amusement.

"This is boring." Dudley moaned before shuffling away. Harry moved closer to peer into the tank, he wouldn't have been surprised if the snake had died of boredom itself. No company except stupid people tapping on the glass hoping for some sort of show, disturbing it's rest all day long.

It was probably worse than his cupboard under the stairs, at least he got to visit the rest of the house from time to time, and there was always school even if he wasn't allowed to get better scores than Dudley it didn't mean he couldn't still learn or read. All the snake got to do was people watch, and that just had to get boring after a while.

Harry sighed and was about to move away when the snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.

_**It winked.**_

Harry stared, well there's something you don't see everyday... glancing around to see if anyone was watching, Harry winked back at the snake, maybe they were both freaks.

The snake jerked its head toward Vernon and Dudley then raised it's eyes to the ceiling giving Harry a look that plainly said:

'I get that all the time'

Harry chuckled wryly, "I don't doubt it." he murmured " it has got to get old though." he said giving the snake a sympathetic look. The snake nodded with a look of slight exasperation. Obviously the poor creature was starved for some intellectual company.

"So you're from Brazil huh?" Harry said looking at the sign, "Did you enjoy it?" he asked, the snake jabbed it's tail at the sign and Harry took a closer look. 'Bred in captivity' ,

"Oh I see –– so you've never been to Brazil?" as the snake shook it's head a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump.

"Dudley! Mr. Dursley! Come and look at this snake! You won't believe what it's doing!" Piers yelled. Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could,

"Out of the way you," he said punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard to the floor. He grimaced slightly at the twinges of pain, but otherwise was fine, he wouldn't so much as bruise. In top condition from his feeding, Dudley wouldn't be able to harm him so easily, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be able to push around his light weight frame. Harry glared at his cousin while the snake hissed at him in annoyance. Honestly, maybe if Dudley was the one on display it might teach him some manners. Harry thought viciously. What came next happened so fast no one really saw how it happened, – one second Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, the glass had completely disappeared. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor, and Harry was extremely tempted to get up and push Dudley inside and see if the glass would come back thus trapping his lard of a cousin inside. But he didn't, for one thing there were too many witnesses, for another he'd probably get whipped and be kept in the cupboard _past_ Christmas.

People throughout the reptile house were screaming and running for the exits. As the snake slithered past him harry heard a hissing voice,

"Brazil here I come . . . thanksss amigo."

"You're welcome?" Harry offered flabbergasted as he realized it was the **snake** that had spoken. It flicked it's tail at him in recognition, snapping playfully at a few people's heals before escaping out an exit.

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself, made Petunia a cup of strong sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Dudley could only gibber while his father Vernon was beat red with anger, demanding something be done, going so far as to demand reimbursement for the danger as they had 'payed for a safe viewing of animals! Not to get eaten by them!'.

Piers on the other hand was staring at Harry. He hadn't been as caught up in the excitement as everyone else.

"You spoke to it didn't you?" he accused. "and you made the glass disappear." he realized with wide eyes. Harry glared at the boy, flaring his aura slightly. Piers shrank back startled and slightly afraid even as everyone else shivered in the sudden coldness.

"Tell a soul and I'll drain you completely next time I see you, Piers." Harry threatened. "If you tell anyone I'll kill you." he growled. Piers gulped and immediately went quiet, giving one swift nod of confirmation.

Everyone of the kids at school was afraid of Harry, no one really minded the lies Dudley made up about him. No one had a problem ganging up on him with Dudley to beat him up either. But everyone knew he was a freak, and had a weird power that had made Amelia disappear in the first grade. No one really knew what happened to her, but they all speculated amongst themselves. And really no one really wanted to find out.

They knew if they kept quiet about his freakishness, Harry wouldn't hurt them anymore than he already did. So they all kept quiet. The only retaliating done was when they ganged up on him. But even then they always waited until he seemed paler, sicker than usual. Harry was really strong and fast when he was 'well fed' and had no qualms about fighting back or punishing them by indulging in extra unnecessary feeding. They only tried to pick on him when he hadn't 'eaten' in a while.

Even though Piers never said anything, Harry still got locked up in his cupboard. The Dursleys always connected strange freakish happening to him, always blaming him even when it wasn't his fault. Harry knew he was a freak, but he also knew he didn't do half of the tings the Dursleys thought he did. He was always blamed but since they had no proof and were taking out their frustration more than anything, Harry was thankfully only locked up for a week, and not till Christmas. That didn't mean he didn't get a beating though. Harry slept on his stomach that entire week while recovering as his back slowly healed from the belt whipping he'd received.

When he'd been let out, he was immediately sent into the gardens to weed and other wise mind the flowers as well as trim the hedge bushes... the sun beat hard on his back and Harry sighed.

He could, potentially speaking, flare his aura to create a cold atmosphere, as that was the side effect of him draining a person's happiness, or maybe _that_ was the side effect of making it cold when he flared his aura? Not that he really knew, but if he did that the Dursleys were sure to notice.

He'd have to suffer the heat, unless they miraculously decided to go out for a bit and leave Harry to his chores. Highly doubtful after the zoo incident. He didn't know if he really was the one who had vanished the glass, but it certainly seemed likely, he'd done stranger things on accident after all.

He'd eventually figured out to do certain things on purpose, like making things float, or disappearing and appearing somewhere else(he'd first done that when running away from Dudley's gang and wound up on top of the school) or unlocking and locking just about anything that even had a lock. They couldn't shut him in his cupboard properly anymore, not if he really wanted out. Unfortunately the first time he'd blatantly disregarded their desire for him to disappear for a month he'd been beaten within an inch of his life. After that Harry became a lot more discrete with leaving his cupboard when he wasn't supposed to.

Generally he tried to only leave at night or if they were gone for the day. And if they woke up or got home before he was safely shut away he could simply vanish himself into the cupboard before they saw him. Very useful talents in his opinion.

That night was not a good night for Harry Potter. Harry was curled up on his bed in the cupboard under the stairs fighting tears. His whole body ached all over and he was bleeding onto his blanket. His right arm resting gingerly against his side, every time he tried to move it, it burned with pain. The most he'd forced himself to do to the arm was push the broken bone into place so that it wouldn't heal awkwardly.

Harry was normally a fast healer, but under the circumstances it wouldn't mean much for the next weak or so. The majority of his skin was black and blue where it wasn't it was red from his blood. It seemed as if he had as many cuts as there were stars in the sky, and the skin on his back was practically shredded from Vernon who had used the buckled end of his belt straight from the off.

Vernon had caught Harry talking to a garden snake that day while he weeded Petunia's garden. That hadn't helped Vernon's mood at all as his best friend had been fired from work. Not to mention, he'd been demoted in pay and rank, in everything really. Vernon had not been having a good day what so ever, and Harry and his 'freakishness' had provided the perfect scapegoat. When Harry had finally been let back out of his cupboard, school was over as it was the summer holidays, and he was starving.

Harry ended up feeding on Miss Fig who had deigned to watch him a few days later, but hadn't really been feeling all that well in the first place. She thought she'd fainted, Harry thought she'd taste far better if she was younger and took better care of her health...


	3. Chapter 2

**Sorry but this Chapter wont be as long as the first. Hopefully the next will be a bit longer, but I thought it would be fun to end it were I stopped it^^**

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**CH. 2**

September wasn't far in coming and Harry had taken to spending as much time as he could outside, completing chores at a record pace. It was hot outside of course, but outside Harry was usually able to evade or completely avoid Dudley and his gang.

Harry couldn't wait for secondary school to start as he would finally be away from his cousin. Dudley had gotten into his father's old private school Smeltings while Harry was going to the public secondary school, Stonewall High. Dudley seemed to think that was particularly funny though.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he had told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No thanks," Harry replied, "the poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it – It might get sick." Harry took off then, before Dudley could figure out what he'd said. He would latter be found lazing in the shade of an old gnarled tree, that was too thick and big for it's own good, that was in the old park down the street. Somehow Dudley never did find him to get back for his comment about the 'poor toilet'.

One day in July, Petunia took her son Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Fig's. She wasn't as bad as usual, one of her cats had managed to make her break a leg(this seemed to happen ridiculously often in Harry's opinion) and she wasn't as fond of them as usual. Harry 'fed' off of her neighbor Mr Reynold who had stopped by to visit, and check up on Mrs Fig to make sure all was well.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. Apparently this was supposed to be good training for latter on in life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new uniform, Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudley–kins, he looked so handsome and grown up. Harry on the other hand didn't trust himself to speak. He though two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh at the ludicrous picture Dudley made.

The next morning there was a horrible smell in the kitchen when Harry went in to make breakfast. The stench seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. Peering inside Harry noted that it looked as though there were several dirty rags swimming in grey water. Harry made a face,

"What's this?" he asked slightly repulsed, "surely the washer's working." he said, and why hadn't she been making him do the laundry as per usual?

Petunia's lips tightened, her eyes narrowing at the boy, "it's your new school uniform, and the washer is just fine." she bit out. Harry glanced down at the tub once more, raising an eyebrow

"Didn't realize it had to be so wet." Harry said sarcastically. He knew he was pushing his luck, but honestly the thing smelled awful, he was in a fowl mood, and Vernon wasn't even up yet, so the worst he would get was hit over the head with a frying pan, or a slap, for his cheeky words.

"Don't be stupid." his aunt snapped, "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things grey for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harry seriously doubted this but left it for a lost cause. There was no way in hell the Dursleys would go through the trouble of getting a new uniform that wasn't Dudley's cast offs, or actually fit. Harry sat down at the table wondering if he could scare one of the other children at Stonewall into at least handing over their blazer, but wasn't sure if the effort was worth the Dursleys eventually finding out he'd gotten a hold of decent clothes. They'd probably burn it.

Harry sighed, it seemed he'd be doomed to look as if he was wearing elephants skin for the next few years. Oh well, it wasn't like he wouldn't be able to handle any of the other children who would think to pick on him for it. Even if it would be a hassle.

Dudley and Vernon soon came into the kitchen, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. He rather hoped it wouldn't carry over after the dye job...

Vernon opened his paper as per usual and Dudley banged his Smeltings stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. Harry was chewing on his second piece of toast, thinking that he could do with some jam, but knowing he'd have no chance of getting a hold of any until either late at night, or once school started. He didn't have to eat normal food, but some of it tasted really good, too good to resist really. He liked chocolate–anything most especially, but rarely ever had a chance to get any.

Harry was bemoaning this fact(silently of course) when they heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley." said Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, boy."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley." Harry swiftly hopped from the table, dodging Dudley's stick. _Now is that anyway to set an example for one's children?_ Harry thought mockingly before sulking as he went to fetch the mail, his toast hanging from his mouth.

Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Vernon's sister, Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like bill, and – a letter for Harry...

Harry picked it up, frowning in confusion, he was pleasantly surprised sure, but none-the-less confused. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives – he didn't borrow from the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

_**Mr. H. Potter **_

_**The Cupboard under the stairs**_

_**4 Privet Drive **_

_**Little Whinging **_

_**Surrey**_

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald–green ink. There was no stamp, but it didn't look like a faux joke from one of the ruder children he knew from school. Besides, none of them(or anyone aside from the Dursleys) even knew he slept under the stairs. then again seeing as how the letter was adressed, someone clearly did. . .

Harry turned the letter over, a puzzled frown still in place, oh he was pleased to be sure, but he wasn't entirely sure the letter was a good thing.

There was a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms, a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

The letter seemed terribly official and he couldn't help but think that it was some type of horrible news. Maybe he _had_ had relatives, but they'd died. That would be terrible, never knowing he could have lived with some other relative until the letter, only to find out the chance had been ripped away from him...

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Vernon from the kitchen.

"what are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" he chuckled at his own joke.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter wondering if he really wanted to know what was inside of it. He handed Vernon the bill and postcard before sitting down and slowly began to open the yellow paper.

Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the post card.

"Marge is ill," he informed Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk . . ."

"Dad!" Dudley said suddenly, "Dad, Harry's got something!"

Harry tensed, for a moment thinking that Dudley had spotted the watch he'd stolen a few months back on Dudley's birthday before remembering that it was tucked safely under his mattress in the cupboard.

He quickly realized that Dudley had meant the letter, however, as Vernon snatched it out of his hands, just before he could read it after having already opened it.

"That's mine." Harry frowned at his uncle, knowing better than trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds he was the grayish white of porridge.

"P–P–Petunia!" he gasped. Harry's eyes narrowed, what was in that letter?

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Vernon held it high out of his reach. Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked at though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a chocking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!"

Harry's aunt and uncle stared at each other, seeming to have forgot that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter." he said loudly.

"It's my letter," Harry said coldly, "at the very least I should read it first."

"Get out both of you," croaked Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelops. Harry didn't move.

"Give me my letter Uncle Vernon." he said sternly, he knew he shouldn't be talking back, but that was his! His very own! Everything else that was his belonged to someone else, all he had was his old baby blanket, and that letter, they were his only possessions. What right did Vernon have to keep it from him?

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" Vernon roared and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scuff of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly engaged in a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the key hole. Pinning his overweight cousin beneath him, Harry promptly pushed his ear to the key hole while a scowling Dudley lay on the floor, listening at the crack beneath the door.

"Vernon," Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address – how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching – spying – might be following us," muttered Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want –"

Harry could see his uncle pacing back and forth,

"No," he said finally, "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get answer . . . Yes, that's best . . . we wont do anything . . ."

"But –"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stomp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" Harry asked cautiously the moment his uncle had squeezed through the door.

"Who's writing me?" he asked, even so, he doubted this was about his letter, or if it was, he was probably going to be punished, so might as well ask right? Harry had already squeezed himself as far back as possible, he wasn't at a weak stage yet but that didn't mean he didn't feel pain, and it didn't mean that just because he was strong he could fight back like at school, no not against Vernon.

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake." Vernon said, Harry frowned, there was no way it could have been a mistake with such a detailed address, 'cupboard under the stairs' "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," Harry said angrily, how could ha have **burned** it! "it had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" Vernon bellowed and Harry's mouth snapped shut as he cringed waiting for his uncle to hit him as a couple spiders fell from the ceiling. Vernon took a deep breath and then forced his face into a smile, which look quite painful.

"Er – yes, Harry – about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking . . . you're really a bit big for it . . . we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom." the Dursley house had four bedrooms, one for Vernon and Petunia, one for guests, one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that would fit in his first bedroom. Now why would they give that room to Harry?

Vernon hadn't even raised his hand to strike him, all the warning bells in Harry's head were going off, this was no where **_near_** normal behavior,

"Why?"

"Don't ask question!" Vernon snapped, "take this stuff upstairs, now."

Harry remained silent as his uncle retreated, wishing now more than ever that Vernon hadn't burnt the letter. If only he could know what it said that made his aunt and uncle act so strangely, giving him Dudley's second bedroom? What was next – birthday presents?

It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything to his new room. The Dursleys had never given him much of anything, most of what he had he'd filched at some time or other, like the pocket watch he hid in his shoe on the way up. No need to have them take it back, to be punished on his way upstairs. It was slightly shocking really, he had so few items that he carried them all in one go and yet they were giving him a _room_. A hole room! That letter must have said a lot more than he could ever have imagined, to get his own room. Harry had always simply assumed he'd be stuck in that cupboard till he was eighteen and was kicked out of the house. But now he had a room, and somehow he didn't want it.

Harry sat down on his new bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in his new room was broken. The month old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it.

Other shelves were full of Books. They were the only thins in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched. It was the books that made Harry smile, he could only get a hold of so much at the library, especially since he could never check anything out.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother,

"I don't _want_ him in there . . . I _need_ that room . . . make him get out . . ."

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here with out it.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Vernon and Petunia kept looking at each other darkly and Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smeltings stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking bitterly about this time yesterday and how he should have read the letter in the hall. He was so busy sulking, he didn't even care that he'd been fed two days in a row, or even that he'd been willingly given jam to go with the toast he was munching on.

When the mail arrived, Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive –' "

With a strangled cry, Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult as Harry too had joined the fray, not only trying to pull them apart, but attempting to snatch at the letter as well. He knew he'd get beat for his poor conduct, but Harry rather thought it was worth it. Unfortunately, he'd been strong enough to handle Dudely, but not well fed enough to handle Vernon as well.

After a minute of confused fighting in which everyone got hit a lot by the smelting stick, Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard – I mean, your bedroom," He wheezed at Harry. "Dudley – go – just go."

Harry paced his room thoughtfully. His uncle hadn't even **yelled** at him. Something was definitely up with that letter. Good news was that someone had known he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Which meant in all probability that they'd try again. This time, he'd be ready. He had a plan.

The repaired alarm clock he'd been tinkering with for hours rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently, he mustn't wake the Dursleys. For a moment he debated popping out straight from his room but decided against it, it wouldn't do for any early neighbors to see him appear out of thin air. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. Harry held his breath as he crept down the hall towards the door, Hoping that his aunt or somebody didn't wake up for the washroom and catch him. He could potentially get away from them, fight back. But if he hurt Petunia at all or she even mentioned it to his uncle even if she didn't complain then... Then it wouldn't matter what that letter said to scare his aunt and uncle. Vernon would beat him within an inch of his life and lock him back in the cupboard till _Christmas next year_.

"AAAAARRRGH!"

Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the door mat – something **alive**!


	4. Chapter 3

There was a reason Petunia hated/feared magic a reason she thought all magic folk freaks. A reason Lilly's parents had been so happy to know she was a witch. It was a reason, an excuse for her unnaturalness. Harry's unnaturalness. Dementor&Wraith!Harry SG-HP

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This story does not have a beta, hell I don't have a beta at all(really obvious as this my first story) so any volunteer beta's will not only be welcomed with open arms but also much love and appreciation

**and I must apologize for the long wait, and no I do not have an excuse other than updating my favorite and 'watch list'**

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**CH. 3**

As the upstairs lights flicked on, Harry was horrified to realize the squashy alive something he'd stepped on was his uncle's face. His uncle had decided to spend the night in front of the door in a sleeping bag, presumably to stop him from doing exactly what he had attempted to achieve, sneaking out to get a letter. He shouted at Harry for over thirty minutes before ordering him to make some tea. Harry shuffled off miserably to the kitchen and by the time he'd got back, the mail had arrived right into his uncle's lap.

Harry bit his lip, half glaring at Vernon as the man ripped up all three letters before grinning maliciously at him. Harry stormed back into the kitchen to continue making breakfast as his aunt and cousin came downstairs. The only good thing about all of this, Harry deduced, was that he hadn't been hit once for his impudence. He had to be careful though, he didn't know how long this letter novelty would last or when their fear would wear off. If he got used to speaking his mind without consequences he could wind up seriously hurt latter on. He'd have to make an effort to curb his tongue, regardless of his temper.

With a sigh Harry clenched his eyes shut and reminded himself that very little was fair in the world. It wasn't fair that the Dursleys treated him so horribly, while favoring Dudley, or that he hurt other people in turn, even if he had to do it in order to survive. There were many cruelties in the world and he had to deal with it. Although, that didn't mean he wouldn't try to get a hold of one of those letters first chance he got.

That day Uncle Verno neglected to go to work, instead staying home and nailing up the mail slot.

"See, " he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails as Harry watched incredulously from the stair well –Dudley was up stairs playing video games– "If they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work Vernon." Petunia spoke timidly.

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," spoke Uncle Vernon trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than thirteen letters arrived for Harry. One he immediately tucked under his mattress when he came back inside. It'd been delivered by a large black and brown owl after he'd teleported straight into the backyard, planning to attempt to meet the mailman before he arrived again. The other letters however, as they couldn't go through the mail slot, had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom. It was both baffling and amusing. Harry couldn't wait to read the letter later that night, but he made sure not to show his glee and kept his head down all day, not even once talking back to Dudley let alone is aunt nd uncle.

Uncle Vernon however, did not share Harry's good mood. He had stayed home again and after burning all twelve letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked and jumped at the smallest noises.

Upon reading the letter that night, Harry wanted to cry, or perhaps scream. He couldn't bring himself to doubt magic with all the freakish things he could do, but there was no way any of this could be possible for him, not with the Dursleys as his guardians. They'd never allow it and this magic business was no where near the escape he had always dreamed of but rather a cruel delusion. He wound up tearing apart the letter in his frustration and mixing it amongst the ashes in the fireplace downstairs.

Saturday, things began to get out of hand. And for once it wasn't just the Dursleys –particularly Uncle Vernon who seemed to be slowly loosing his mind– who suffered, Harry did as well. Twenty-four letters found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor. Harry tried vainly not to let his misery show.

Why try so hard?

This magic life the letters proposed could _never_ exist for him. The Dursleys would never allow it and indeed were doing their very best to keep it from happening. With each letter that arrived Harry felt a little more broken in side. Oh he wanted it, but didn't dare, and it killed him to see more and more each day. He wanted to strangle this Dumbledore and McGonagall persons, why wouldn't they stop? It was obvious that the Dursleys were not interested so to speak. Why not just leave him alone?

The Dursleys were slightly freaked out to note that the house had gone 'mysteriously' cold despite it being summer while Harry moped about in his room; his only source of comfort the old pocket watch he'd filched from Dudley some months ago.

Though icicles were soon hanging from the ceiling and the furniture in his room, Vernon dared not make a comment to the freak. He had more pressing matters to deal with, such as those 'blasted' letters. As long as the boy didn't actively give them any trouble he could ignore it. Even if it meant wearing coats in the house and keeping the fire going constantly..

Sunday morning found Vernon tired, but oddly cheerful considering the current situation. "no post on Sundays." he spoke happily as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "No damn letters today–" something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. In the next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked even as Harry paled drastically, why couldn't they just _stop_?

"Out! OUT!" Uncle Vernon commanded before he seized Harry around the waist and threw him bodily down the hall. Harry winced at the sickening crack that ensued even as Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut once Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces. Harry tenderly pulled his arm in towards his chest.

Normally this wouldn't have been a factor at all, but given that he hadn't fed in quite a while what with the letter forced quarantine, his body had become a lot more delicate in response to his apparent starvation, especially with his gift constantly on (turning his room into a kind of ice box) and it hadn't gotten bad enough for him to dare feed from the Dursleys yet, especially with things standing as they were.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Harry didn't even bother to point out his newly broken arm. The bone wasn't protruding the skin so he knew he could weather through it, even if packing would be that much more difficult. He'd had worse after all.

Ten minutes latter and they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag. Harry had gingerly wrapped his arm and shoulder with an old scarf to tie it to his chest in a kind of sling. His arm ached more with each jostle of the car but he kept his peace; vainly trying for sleep, knowing that in Morpheus's arms he wouldn't be nearly as miserable. Once again the silver pocket watch he'd filched some months ago was his only source of comfort, however meager it was.

They drove on and on in almost complete silence, even Aunt Petunia did not so much as dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while .

"Shake 'em off . . . shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day and by nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs that he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up at least one alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. While they were getting rooms Harry had to lie and tell one old woman he'd just sprained his arm. And then that he had a bit of a cold. Apparently he was flushed in the face and running a fever. It was a bit of a shock for him though, he didn't think he'd ever been sick in his life. But at least it explained the dream like quality everything had taken on.

Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp musty sheets; despite all this and Dudley's snoring he'd never slept so good in his life. The next day Harry found that the searing pain in his arm had settled for a dull throb and only flared up when he moved it around to much. Despite the pain he was relieved. He'd never had to deal with serious injury before while so underfed or without immediate access to a person's emotions. He'd never had to deal with something like this before. Injured **and** weak.

It was the first time that a broken arm had ever been a serious injury for the boy.

For breakfast they ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast much to Dudley's chagrin. Aunt Petunia had a resigned air about her while Uncle Vernon finally seemed to be relaxing. At least until the owner of the Hotel came and knocked on the door.

" 'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? I only got about a hundred of these at the front desk." Harry felt the faintest dredges of horror rise up within him as the lady held up the letter so they could read the green ink address:

**_Mr. H. Potter_**

**_Room17_**

**_Railview Hotel_**

**_Cokeworth _**


End file.
